Excess
by Harvest-Sun
Summary: The characters of Harry Potter are not in a magical world, instead a world where money and social status are sought after. Draco is a rich, high class boy who is being forced to engage a girl he has no interest in. Harry is a stableboy. Slash later.
1. Intro

A/N: Hello! This is my first fanfic, and I hope you like it! It's intended to be DMHP but I'm not sure where it'll go... Ehehehe... Anywho, R&R!

Also, Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter P. But if I decide to make OCs in this, they are mine.+

Draco raised his chin high; his arms erect, and began a swift waltz with his partner. Smooth music drifted across his family's spacious hall as he kept carefully in time with his steps. His partner, a young blushing brunette with a light purple-pink dress, was too shy for an attempt at conversation. Draco was not interested in conversation anyways. His cool silver eyes roamed across the guests, bedecked with diamonds and pearls and emeralds. Waiters stood around the perimeter of the dance floor, offering champagne and dainty finger sandwiches.

Tonight Draco wore his favorite suit, a deep emerald green one, that made his pale skin, light eyes and snow-blond hair stand out spectacularly. His shoes were shined perfectly and made no sound while dancing on the floor, but he would rather be standing the perimeter looking at the gents and ladies dancing than actually dancing. Draco could dance, but he most definitely preferred _not_ to. Most times his dances were set up by his parents, who only cared for him to carry on the Malfoy line. The Malfoy family was cold, and distant, but very elegant and refined.

Finally, the waltz ended and Draco bowed to his partner before escaping as politely as possible. He walked quickly past the waiters to a bar and ordered a scotch. _God, these things were so boring!_ He scowled, brushing imaginary specks off of his elegantly tailored dark emerald suit. As he received his drink and proceeded to gulp it down, his friend Blaise Zabini appeared beside him. Blaise was tall, but of course shorter than Draco. He came from the Zabini line, also refined and elegant, but not as cold. Draco knew Mrs. Zabini, and rather liked her. Blaise thought she was a nuisance, but she cared for him andwas always warm and nice to Draco (despite her husband's death), unlike Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Blaise's father had died years ago, but his mother still wore the traditional black of mourning (it was a shame, she looked absolutely wonderful in pastels). Blaise loved two things: women, and drink."Man," he breathed in Draco's ear. "_They_ are here."

Draco followed Blaise's gaze. Indeed, all in a row were possible the three finest girls in the city (in all of the bachelors' opinions, at least), Ginny, the flaming redheaded charmer, Pansy, the fantastically rich but mediocre looking girl, and Fleur Delacour, the pale, polite blonde beauty (whom every boy was attracted to). All three were making their way to the powder room, probably to trade gossip and wonder at which boy they would eventually marry.

Draco turned back to talk to Blaise, but felt a cold, heavy hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw that it was his father, Lucius Malfoy. He faced him, looking up at his father. Even though Draco was considered tall compared to other young men of his age, his father was a tall_er_ man, pale like Draco with snow-blond hair that went past his shoulders. His hair was elegantly pulled into a ponytail going straight down his neck tonight. Draco gave a tight smile. "Why, hello father," he said.

"Draco," Lucius intoned. "It is time for you to dance with another girl." Blaise shifted uncomfortably in the background, running a hand through his hair and inspecting his dark silver colored suit. Lucius gripped his son's shoulder tight and turned. Draco dutifully followed his father, scowling. Blaise smiled, knowing how much Draco hated dancing with girls he didn't know and defiantly was not attracted to. Blaise grabbed another drink, before setting off to find unsuspecting women to pester.

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Ginny flopped onto a deliciously soft chaise situated in the powder room. The whole room was large, warm, and cozy, with nice yellow, orange and red accents. It smelled heavily of many women's perfume, which was actually not that bad, and makeup. "Did you SEE what that Hannah Abbott girl was WEARING?" Ginny exclaimed. "Positively horrendous! Where does she get her dresses, Auntie Sally's ancient dresses?" She smoothed out her delicate crème dress and pulled at her beautiful red ringlets. Ginny was pale, and got freckles easily. Her beautiful red hair was envied by many. Fleur sat at a vanity and sniffed. "Oh, Gin, don't be too harsh now," she murmured politely, studying her face to see if it was perfect (to many men, it was). Fleur was petite, blonde, blue-eyed, basically perfect. She was polite, too, being brought up very carefully by her parents. "No," Pansy stood, thoughtful. "That frock wouldn't look good on a pig!" Pansy had brown hair, tonight coiled, curled, and bright. She was slightly short, not as mature as the other two girls. Pansy was often the source of much gossip and rumors. Fleur tried to keep her face straight, but a small smile slipped out.

"You know her family has been having trouble lately! Anyways," Fleur leaned toward the other two girls conspiratorially. "Didn't Draco Malfoy look stunning tonight?" The girls sighed excitedly. "His suit was so dashing!" Pansy agreed.

"I don't know, I think I liked Blaise Zabini's suit better," Ginny mused. "A dark silver… it was still a sparkly silver, too." She smiled. The other two girls considered this. "Mmmm… He did look good tonight, but Draco still looks more amazing," Pansy pronounced. Fleur turned to the mirror, unsnapping Ginny rolled her eyes. "Are you still obsessed over him?" She teased. Pansy laughed. "Look who's talking," She giggled. "What secret man are you meeting with tonight?" Ginny smiled. Fleur sighed.

"I suppose I shall go outside to dance," Fleur snapped her mascara shut, eyeing her lashes before standing up and sweeping her light silver-blue dress across the room to the door. "I shall see you all later?" The other two nodded, smiling. Fleur smiled lightly before fully exiting the room, leaving the other girls to talk and glance at the clock, which now read seven twenty-three.

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Draco lightly took Ginny's hand, inwardly complaining. The ginger may have been a beauty, but her reputation was not up to par with Fleur's, or even Pansy's. He also rather disliked her deportment, along with the many (secret) affairs with men below her station. Still, he smiled pleasantly at her and only stepped on her foot one —okay, three – times. Her crème dress swept across the floor as he led her through another dance that he had learned, for the many, many balls and dances his family attended (or hosted). He knew these steps so well he could now let his mind wander and let his feet do the work.

Ginny discreetly glanced at the clock. It read eight thirty-seven. Ginny growled quietly. She was supposed to have met Tom, the tall and handsome stable master at eight o'clock, but he had been a no-show. Her stomach twisted inside of her.

Fleur and Pansy were perched on two delicately shaped chairs on the outside of the dance floor. Fleur was avoiding hopeful bachelors by claiming that her ankle was twisted and ached so, and Pansy was steadily drinking champagne. She loved the bubbly taste and golden color of it. Fleur dodged yet another hopeful. "I don't know how much longer I can keep up this excuse," She winced. Pansy smiled at her tightly. _She always gets all the offers_, Pansy thought irritably_. I don't get any. It may be a nuisance, but what's that compared to nothing??_Fleur sighed, smoothing her lily colored dress and smoothing her hair. Pansy inwardly rolled her eyes. _She knows she looks perfect and she doesn't need to do that._"I'm going to go get some fresh air," Fleur told her. "Want to come?" Pansy shook her head, lifting her newly refreshed flute of champagne and taking a gulp.

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Harry Potter basked in the warmth of the stable, studiously brushing a grey and white dappled stallion named Buckbeak. He could hear steady music and the soft murmurings of the crowd inside of the Malfoys' mansion. Tom, the cruel and evil stable master, had already gone to bed (after roughly telling Harry to finish cleaning up the horses). He faintly knew the Malfoys, just that they were pale, blonde beings. He worked for Mr. and Mrs. Lucius Malfoy, who had one son named… Derrick? Daniel? Some name starting with D… Working for them was nice, good pay, nice food and board. He had free time whenever he wasn't tending to the horses or under the rule of evil Tom. He was allowed in the house and sometimes secretly snuck up to the Malfoys' rooms with his friend Ron. They were elaborate, with delicate white furnishings along with dark wood accents. They regularly changed their bed sheets, and Harry's favorite color of bedspread was a deep maroon, much to Ron's distaste. Ron hated maroon, and rather preferred the rich Golden spread.

A/N: Ahhhh! Finished (and already typed some of the next chapter x) ). Thank you so much for reading! ;; Please Review, too! Sorry for any mistakes, I have spellchecked this... but I may have missed something while adding more... Thank you+


	2. Dealings

_**Ahm slow x) Anyways, late Happy New Year lol. And thank you to my beta (are you my beta? can I call you my beta in this? xD)!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own HP. If I did... 8D**_

Draco twisted in his bed, finally waking up. He pulled the warm emerald sheets closer, shivering. It was winter, and cold, cold, cold in the mornings. He had a slight headache from last night's goings on. He couldn't remember much, but that happened a lot now, no matter how much he drank. It was all just a useless blur of dancing and table chatter to him.

Draco sat up and peered blearily at the miniature clock sitting on his desk. The long hand was at fifty-four… and the hour hand was at… SHIT!Draco jumped out of his warm bed, racing to the trunk where his clothes were lain out. Eleven!! How the hell did he manage to sleep until ELEVEN?! He pulled on his clothes, running into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash some water on his face. Checking to make sure his clothes were on properly, he raced down the hallway, stopped, breathed, and glided down the stairs.

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Harry was roused from his sleep by Tom. He turned to see Tom standing above him with a (now) empty bucket. It was then he realized that he was absolutely soaked. "Arrrrrrghhhhhhhhh!" Harry jumped out of bed, whipping his soaked blanket at Tom. Tom smirked, pulling out a dry (and exceedingly long) sheet of paper. "Boy, these are your chores for the day," He flipped the page onto his bed. "Maybe once you are done you can try to change your sheets?" Laughing maniacally, he hopped down from the loft to check on Buckbeak and the other horses their barn housed.

Harry sighed, pulling off the wet sheets from his bed and hastily changing clothes. He only had a clean dark red top and a pair of black pants, both of which were slightly scratchy. He spread out his wet clothes and sheets on the railing, hoping they would dry very, very soon. He then looked at the list.

_Chores for Harry Potter, stable hand:_

_Clean all of the horses' stalls._

_Feed all the horses._

_Clean all the horses and their riding gear._

_Inspect the carriage._

_Get leather, lantern oil, and shiner._

_Make sure hay is fresh._

_Draw water from the well._

_Inspect all the horses for injury._

_Allow the young Mr. Malfoy to ride the horse of his choice today._

The list went on, but the thing that captured Harry's attention the most was number nine. He rarely saw the Malfoys at all, but today he would see their son. Ron had told him a lot about the Malfoys, their snow-blonde hair, pale skin, they sounded like some kind of earth-bound angels. They were also prominent in society, or so Harry had read in many newspapers. They had headlines like, 'The Malfoy's Grand Christmas Ball: the Most Wonderful Party this Holiday!' or 'Malfoy stock has risen – Again!!' Harry climbed down from his loft-bedroom to the stables. The warm smell of horses dominated this part of the structure. On the east side was a door to the kitchens and to the left of that was a wooden table with a wooden stool. On the table sat a breakfast of eggs and some ham along with a cup of water. Harry peeked into the kitchen to get a glimpse of the clock. It read six fifty-seven. Harry scowled. Tom didn't have to have woken him up this early! He slumped into the stool, devouring his breakfast.

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"Draco," Narcissa Malfoy drawled. "You are late…" The petite blonde lazily motioned at the huge grandfather clock in the entrance hall. The clock now read eleven… fifteen. Draco sighed. "I am terribly sorry Mother, Father," he recited. He seemed to say that phrase a lot. "The help did not wake me up."

His mother and father turned away. "No matter, Draco," His father said. "We can now go to the school." He turned, opening the door for Narcissa. Draco followed outside. They were bundled up in rich wool, Narcissa in a dark black silky fur. The academy was only two blocks away, so there was no need for a carriage today.

His parents apparently thought he needed finishing school. Draco resisted the large urge to roll his eyes when presented with this new task. His parents _knew_ he was perfect, always kept polite and cordial. He had passed all of his classes from his tutor. They were probably sending him to an academy because it was _in_, or they wanted him to be occupied during the day.

Lucius drew up to the school's front steps, waiting for his son and wife to catch up. Draco looked up at the place. The place was a mixture of grays and sandy colors. A large rectangular stone situated above the doors had the words _Albus D. __Academy for__ Young Gentlemen._ Draco scowled. Albus Dumbledore? Why was a school named after him?

Albus Dumbledore had been one of the highest men in society, unmarried, living in a very grand house. He did not like his wealth though, and often, when telling stories to youngsters, had told them that it was like blindness. _All you can see is yourself, and all the wonderful things you can get,_ he would say. _While driving around in your carriage, you would not notice the paupers on the street, holding up tins with their meager hands. What your wealth could do for all of them…_ He would sink into old memories, regrets, triumphs, at that time, leaving the children to wonder at what his words meant…

He was well mannered, but an outcast in the life of luxury for his strange ideas (to the majority of them). Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco entered the dark building. "Ah!" A large man rumbled. "Misters and Missus Malfoy, welcome. Might I offer you some tea and cakes? I made 'em myself." He grinned, ushering them into his cramped office.

"Eh! Sorry for the cramping," the man said sheepishly. "I don't usually use this room that much; I'm usually out on the grounds." He pointed to his desk, which, in front of extremely large mounds of paperwork, had a small tab propped up that read _Hagrid, Admissions/Grounds-keeper._ Draco disliked the man, from his bushy black hair to his large feet. Hagrid shuffled through the paperwork, pulling out a largish looking packet of paper.

"Mister Draco, this here is your test," Hagrid handed Draco the paper and told him to go into an empty class room down the hall. Draco walked quickly out of the room and into a classroom on his left.

O o o o o o o o o o o O

Harry was busy toiling on his chores when he heard someone come into the stables. He turned around to see who, keeping his brush on Norbert. Slowly a tall, pale figure emerged from behind the horses' stalls. He looked completely… ethereal. Harry blinked. It must be Master Draco, he thought. He is supposed to come riding today. Draco was dressed impeccably for this, with freshly shined black riding boots, dark emerald riding pants, and a white-silver top. On his head was a black riding cap and in his hands was a dark riding crop.

"I'd like to ride Thiassi," Draco said coldly. He had utterly disliked the meeting and test at Dumbleshit's school. He couldn't wait to get away from his parents. He looked down his nose at the stable-hand. He looked short, with messy brown-black hair and round, bent glasses. His shirt was thing and draped over his torso well. His eyes were a magnificent, glittering emerald, Draco's favorite color. Draco turned his head quickly, wrinkling his nose.

Harry sprang into action, only just realizing that he was staring. Ron was right. The Malfoys looked like angels, or some kind of higher Being. He grabbed saddle and bridle, fumbling with the straps as he dressed Thiassi. The tawny-gray horse snorted at him, impatient for a ride. Harry finished and led Thiassi out to Draco. His hands twitched as he led out the bridle. Draco grasped the reins, his hand slightly brushing Harry's. Their hands looked extremely different, Draco's pale, his fingers well manicured, Harry's dirty from working in the stable, still-slightly-tanned-from-summer skin, dirty fingernails. Harry pulled away quickly, turning and going back to work on Norbert. Norbert snorted and looked down at Harry, his large eyes gleaming mischievously. Harry lightly swatted him, sighing.

Draco turned out of the stable, leading Thiassi out. He turned at the doors to see the stable boy swat at Norbert. He blinked and turned, mounting Thiassi and dashing into the cool outdoor air.

YyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyY

"Draco!" Draco shook his head, moaning as he woke up. His mother was at the door to his room, looking really irritated. "Today we have a social at the Parkinson's. Your father and I expect you to prepare accordingly." Narcissa turned around and pranced off. Draco moaned again, rolling out of bed. Onto the floor. Draco pushed himself off of the thankfully very plush carpet and slumped to the bathroom.

x

Harry woke up, rolling over in the dark of the early morning. Tom wasn't up to pester him right now. Harry rolled out of bed softly, so as to not disturb the horses. He padded down the ladder and to a horseless stall full of hay. Lying down, he peered out of a small skylight to see the murky dawn sky. He was still able to see stars, but the sky was noticeably lighter and slightly pinker.

x

Draco sat stiffly on one of the many plush armchairs in the Parkinsons' parlor. He was tired and cranky. His stomach wombled weakly, evidence of his missed breakfast. His family and the Parkinsons sat around a round table, Draco in between his parents and across from Pansy. She looked made-up as per usual, and had on a slightly less glamourous dress than one she would have worn to a ball. Pansy kept on winking at Draco, deepening his scowl and making his fingers tap quicker on his leg. Narcissa and Lucius were oblivious to their son's discomfort, laughing and exchanging gossip with Pansy's parents. Tea was served, along with fashionable mini-sandwiches. Pansy daintily took one, but Draco (as subtly as possible) ate one after another. He swallowed tea after, watching everyone else seemingly ignore him. Well, Pansy was not ignoring him…

Draco knew he was a very eligible bachelor. He knew he was the only son of the prestigious Malfoys. He also knew he was definitely NOT bad looking. However, he was very unattracted to the girls of his station. They piled on makeup, splashed on perfume and behaved… _politely._ Draco honestly didn't care about polite; he preferred one who could entertain him and eat whatever she wanted, lounge about in her pajamas all day and still be just fine. His parents were (shockingly) sold on the idea of him marrying, producing one heir and living in his riches. They would most likely pick Fleur, Pansy, or Ginny. Draco shuddered.

_**A/Ns: Slightly longer than the last chappie! ; ) R&R please!**_


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